


Phish Food

by tari_roo



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Fringe
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tari_roo/pseuds/tari_roo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A star trek like blue box appearing inside Walter’s lab is not the strangest thing to have ever happened to Fringe Division. But that’s not saying much and it was pretty weird for a Wednesday afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phish Food

Title: Phish Food (Fringe/Dr Who)  
author: [](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/)**tari_roo**  
Fandom: Fringe and New Dr Who  
Characters: Astrid, Walter, Eleven and Rory  
Disclaimer: This bananacreme pie is the property of MassiveDynamic. Crumbs will be prosecuted with genetic therapy  
Summary: A star trek like blue box appearing inside Walter’s lab is not the strangest thing to have ever happened to Fringe Division. But that’s not saying much and it was pretty weird for a Wednesday afternoon.  
Spoilers: Set near the tail end of season 4 in Fringe. Some spoilers but not huge. Not too sure where in Dr Who, but with the timey wimey it could be anywhere right? So general spoiler alert for Dr Who.

  


***fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho**

“Astro! Astro! Quick, I think I’ve got it, I need you to try this....”

Walter ground to halt, belatedly realising that something was amiss in his lab. Or rather something was different. Or be more precise, there was something ‘new’ in the lab. Something blue.

“Astro, what?”

“Walter, did you?”

Walter paused. There were two reasons for this. First, Astro obviously did not know how or why this blue box had appeared in his lab and second, its door was opening. The odds of this out of the blue appearance being a good thing was possible but remote. It was far more likely, given recent events and trends in fringe science that this ‘oddity’ was going to be bad, disastrous or even ... annoying.

The door paused, perhaps because Walter knocked over a glass beaker in his haste to arm himself for the possible ‘badness’. Astro, suitably armed with a walther ppk hissed, “I swear it was fading in when I came in, like a cheap star trek effect. I’ve called in back up, Olivia’s on her way. Maybe we should leave?”

Walter definitely agreed on the leaving part, but Gene was on the otherside of the lab and Walter could not leave her to be eaten, mutated or fondled by whatever was inside the box. Although, judging by its similarity to an English telephone box, perhaps it was only some luckless bowler hat wearing business man inside, transported from the 50s by a freak fringe event (and across the Atlantic, obviously). “No, we have to save Gene!”

Halfway through calculating the viability of creating a nerve toxin that would target only 1% of the human population and spare all bovine residents of the lab, Walter squeaked when the door of the blue telephone box, perhaps police box as per the sign, flew open and out stepped the English business man.

“What voices, what sounds, it’s the middle of the night so the place should be completely, why hello there!”

A tall gangly man with rather more hair than was warranted for business beamed at Walter and Asterix and said brightly, “It’s the middle of the day isn’t it? Unless by some coincidence Harvard has relocated to Svalbard or Ganymede has turned into a second sun 2 million years earlier than expected.”

“Or you got it wrong, again?” A second person emerged, looking far less dated and exuding less excessive hair. For some reason this settled some of Walter’s nerves, although the appearance of two strangers from inside a blue police box in his lab where five minutes ago there had been none, should have been twice as upsetting. “And it was Europa that turned into a sun.”

Whirling on his companion, the bow-tie bedecked man (and it was a snappy bowtie) waved his hand and smiled, “It was Jupiter itself actually, but I am talking about reality here, Rory, not science fiction, no matter how amusing. Humanity were told to stay away from Europa, which of course, they ignored.”

“FBI! Identify yourselves!” Asprin sounded quite serious and Walter approved, this was not the time to debate the merits of science fiction movie travesties.

“Ah yes, apologies, got mildly distracted there with nonsensical references. I’m the Doctor and this is Rory, apologies for the intrusion.”

“Doctor? Doctor of what?” Walter blurted out, mind racing to deduct what sort of doctor would live in a police box and wear suspenders. Probably a soft phd of some kind, rather than a science of any worth. Heavens above, he could be a doctor of literature or worse, a psychologist.

“Oh, this and that. Everything. Is that a Holstein?”

“You leave Gene alone, you diabolical banker!”

It was too late however, the stranger had leapt towards Gene, no doubt intent on harming her, his monstrous arms windmilling like scythes. “Aren’t you beautiful! And eloquent! Living in Harvard has certainly paid off, my dear. Ha, yes, indeed, quite charming.”

Ignoring Asterix’s cry to stay put, Walter rushed to Gene’s defence, waving his weapon of choice, the only one to hand – his specially designed egg whisk. It could reduce a dozen eggs into the lightest of froths in seconds, so it could do enough damage to matter on someone’s eyeballs. Astro was shouting something, the madman was touching Gene and Walter let out the battle cry of the Mongolian hordes of Ghengis Khan, whisk held at the ready.

“Oh you do not have a crush on him. Really? Why? Oh ha!” The Doctor turned to meet Walter’s attack with a megawatt smile, “Did you succeed with the non-expiration dairy products? Quite ingenious! Genie was very impressed!”

Walter ground to a bemused halt and stammered, “What, she was? Really?”

The Doctor smiled in return and laughed, “Really. I’ve met some interesting inter-species relationships in my time and I fully expect to be invited to the wedding.”

Walter beamed. This man was quite positively insane. It was nice meeting someone with a loser grasp on reality than himself.

***fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho**

Astrid kept her gun trained on ‘Rory’, the only one who seemed cognisant of the scope of the situation – that she was pointing a gun at him. He was shooting nervous looks in the direction of Walter and ‘the Doctor’ and giving her a sad, very put upon smile. Time to take control of the situation.

“Who are you and how did you get here?”

“Uhm, well. I’m Rory Williams, and believe it or not, but I still have no idea how that thing works or why we are here.” Rory didn’t seem particularly worried that he was somewhere where he wasn’t supposed to be – he seemed more concerned about the gun (understandable) and the fact that Walter and the Doctor were cackling like schoolgirls on speed. “Shouldn’t we be checking on them?”

Astrid actually agreed, but did not want to completely let the situation devolve into chaos, and let two random men who walked out of a blue box wander around her lab. “Are you English?”

Rory stared at her like it was a trick question, but swallowed, “Yes, that a problem?”

“Are you a doctor or scientist or something?”

“Nurse actually.”

“British Government?”

“Definitely not.”

“Alternate universe?”

“Say what?”

Astrid stared at him for a few seconds longer, and winced as something broke near the door and Walter cried, “No, don’t worry, I have several more.” Taking her eyes off Rory for a spilt second to check that Dr Bishop wasn’t creating a hurricane in a teacup (again) Astrid whirled back to glare at Rory who had not moved. Slowly, ever so slowly, Astrid lowered her weapon and sighed, “Just please tell me you’re not part of some nefarious plan to take over Boston, the US or our world?”

“As far as I know, no.” Rory relaxed and lowered his hands, leaning to the side a little to try catch a glimpse of the men behind her. “Is that flame supposed to be purple?”

Astrid figured she had about ten minutes before back up arrived, so she had better get some answers before that.  An enthusiastic voice in loud non-regional specific British tones said, “Its sonic, see. You can never have enough sonic.” An whirring sound was followed by a mini explosion and Walter crying, “My potato flavoured petunias!”

Rory covered his eyes with his hand and sighed, “I don’t suppose you have a cup of tea lying around?”

Maybe it was the shared eye roll as the Doctor and Walter walked past talking ninety words a minute about the superconductivity of iron phosphorus and the correct spelling of aluminium, or maybe it was the shear ordinariness of Rory compared to the vibrant ‘oddness’ of the Doctor that calmed Astrid. She felt a burgeoning sense of camaraderie, of shared pain of dealing with eccentric men.

“Asteroid, where is my ultraviolet laser? And did you move my fluoride bath?”

“Try the bathroom, Walter. You were checking for invisible tattoos, remember?”

Rory very carefully sat down on a stool, after carefully checking for scientific paraphernalia and said with a longsuffering tone, “I suggest letting them get it out of their system. I don’t know why we’re here, but since you don’t seem to have carnivorous plants growing out of the light fixtures, or living adipose babies wondering around, we could take the moment to relax.”

Smiling, Astrid laughed, “No, the sentient mould was last month. I think we have some Earl Grey stashed somewhere.”

Making tea was ordinary and normal, even if Walter had blown up the last kettle three days ago and you had to boil water on a Bunsen burner, and Astrid clung to that normalcy as she and Rory watched the Doctor and Walter dart about the lab. “So you work for the FBI?” Rory sounded less interested in her answer and far more interested in the Doctor examining the sensory deprivation chamber.

“Yep,” Astrid smiled, searching for a clean mug that hadn’t been used for potential urine samples.

“X-files?” There was an edge of hysteria to Rory’s voice, like he wanted to leap about and scream, but he remained seated, hands clenching randomly.

“No, fringe division. Sugar?”

Looking up, Rory nodded, “Ah, nicer sounding name, less ominous. And yes please. Two if you have?”

Wondering what Walter had done with the sugar and if liquorice counted as a sugar substitute, and muttered from under the counter top, “Yeah, nicer name. Less aliens too.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Rory sighed. Astrid handed him a cup of hot tea, and winced in unison with him as a mini-explosion detonated from inside the small office Walter used as a bedroom. Gene lowed a little in response and the Doctor yelled, “Never fear, dear. All is well! Eyebrows are an evolutionary dead-end, trust me on this.”

Sipping his tea, Rory met Astrid’s worried gaze and asked, “Have you been affected by time line changes or time travel weirdness?”

Staring at him, brain running like steam train, Astrid nodded,” Timelines, yes – apparently. Not time travel – yet, I hope.”

Nodding in a not very reassuring manner, Rory muttered, “Good, good.”

“Why?” Astrid asked pulling over another stool, after divesting it of Walter’s ant farm.

Not replying to the question, Rory shrugged and asked, “Lost anyone?”

“No. Not that we remember. But we got someone new – who we thought was new, turned out to be old.” The whole ‘Peter’ thing as fairly complicated to explain, and Astrid really didn’t want to go into the whole ‘alternate world’ top secret thing, so she hoped Rory would take her non-verbal hint and drop it.

Instead, he wilted a little and sighed, “Uh, yeah, us too.”

That begged a hundred questions and well, the first that sprung to mind, Astrid blurted out, “Who did you lose?”

“My wife,” Rory growled. It was a strange growl, it had all sorts of ‘echoes’ and underlying emotions. Astrid shivered to herself and gasped, “But you remember her....” Walter’s melt down about Peter had not been fun, and current events still did not bode well for the Bishops.

“Yes,” Rory sighed, staring at his tea like he had no idea what it was. Absently, he put it down on the table, and rubbed his thighs, hands shaking a little. Smiling reassuringly, Astrid said, “So, that’s hopeful, right?”

“Sorta.”

In a fairly decent impression of a mad hatter, the Doctor ran past, darted back towards them and said very seriously to Rory, “We did not lose Amy, she is just temporarily ... ah, misplaced.” His attempt to ‘help’ reassure Rory was diminished by the brainmapping helmet he was wearing, and the several electrodes attached to his bow tie.

Rory however glared back at him, unreassured, and he snapped, “Lost! Amy is lost! Gone, disappeared, vanished!”

Like an overconfident but very certain child, the Doctor beamed back, and cried, “But we will find her! Never fear Rory Po... Williams...”

The lifetime series moment of endearing bonding during times of hardship was derailed when the door of the blue box was ripped open and a vibrant red fury emerged, glad in a flowery bathrobe and 30’s style swimming cap.

“Oy, which one of you yobbos locked me in the poolroom?”

The Doctor did a classic double take, actually paled and stammered, “How did you... Donna!” He opened his arms and smiled an unconvincing smile of surprised delight.

‘Donna’ though was not done and slapped her hand against the wood of the box and snapped, “And you certainly didn’t help by moving all the doors around!” Walter arrived, carefully but energetically carrying his tray of autopsy blades and ground to a stunned halt as Donna kicked the door of the blue box.

Quietly, Astrid said in an aside to Rory, “Not your wife?”

Surprisingly not visibly upset, more amused, Rory shook his head, “No, no. A distant relation maybe, ... possibly. I wouldn’t be surprised actually, knowing the Doctor.”

The Doctor was biting the nail of one finger and vibrating with nerves. Astrid smiled at Rory, “The something new but turned out to be old?”

“Yep. And don’t say that too loud,” Rory grinned  back, his anger from before momentarily forgotten.   

Donna was done telling the box what she thought of it, er, her and turned on the Doctor, one long finger pointed at his chest, “Not only do I suddenly find that you have replaced me, and you won’t tell me how or when, now you’re avoiding me all together. Nice, really nice. After all I’ve done.. we’ve done.... and you definitely changed your hair!”

Pulling himself together, the Doctor smiled and approached her with the same enthusiasm as man approaching a rabid dog, or hungry tiger or ex-girlfriend from a really bad break up. “Donna, Donna, that’s not... we’re just trying to find out what happened. To Amy, to you, to us... I promise. Shifting timelines leave a very discernable trace and while they did not originate here, at Harvard, in this lab specifically, the Tardis, dear old soul that she is, brought us here. And Walter is a delightful man, and  have you met Genie, lovely cow.”

“The Tardis, a dear old soul? Yeah, right, doddering more like. Is that coffee?” Astrid gulped when she realised Donna was talking to her and stammered, “Er, no. Tea, actually. I...”

Donna sighed and said, “Thank God, get us cup wouldya, please? You! Back to work, nimrod.”

And Astrid and Rory’s impromptu tea party got another guest. Awkwardly, the Doctor hovered for a few seconds, like a fly in indecisive amber. Walter finally came back to the here and now and said loudly, “Just how big is that police box?”

Startled, the Doctor whirled, the cords from the electrodes trailing around him like a maypole. “Dr Bishop, my good man. Good, you got the blades. Time for some surgery, yes?

Walter beamed. Rory groaned. Astrid gawked and stammered, “He’s not serious, is he?”

Donna grunted, “Hardly ever, but when he is... oh boy. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Astrid nervously watched as the Doctor and Walter ‘operated’ on the brainmapping helmet, wondering why they needed surgical blades instead of a tool set, but neither Rory or Donna seemed overly worried.  So Astrid sipped her tea and tried to ignore the awkward silence between Rory and Donna.

When it all got too much and Walter and the Doctor were peering endlessly at connections and wires, Astrid said brightly, but quietly, “So, have either of you been to the States before?”

They both nodded and Rory said, “Yeah, but it was kinda... tense. The Whitehouse was nice, though.”

Donna snorted, “Well, I’ve been here the normal way. Took a small holiday once, ... I think. Maybe a honeymoon after the lotto win.” She paused and seemed genuinely confused and sighed, “Did I win the lotto? Who the hell is my husband? You’d think I’d remember if... if I know about it, right?”

Rory reached around Astrid to pat Donna on the shoulder, “Yeah. Doesn’t help that I remember Amy but nothing much else. Just our time with the Doctor.”

Astrid nodded, confused but not really keen to probe too much further and said, “Well, if it’s any consolation, Olivia... one of the agents here, is getting her memories back.” Astrid nearly spoke further on that, but stopped short of spilling beans not her own, or of any relevance, maybe and said instead, “Between the timelines and the machine, well, that Observer last week, life is certainly ... peculiar these days.”

Rory and Donna stared at her like she was talking gibberish, but they all startled as something crashed to the floor. As Astrid turned to see what had happened, the Doctor was suddenly in her face, his hands grasping her shoulders firmly but gently. He had very kind eyes.

“What did you say?”

Astrid had worked with and for crazy people long enough so she answered in as direct a manner as she could, “Observer.”

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed, his smile grew thin, “Funny ubiquitous bald guys, black suits, no fashion sense. Hats.”

Walter piped up from behind the Doctor, “Briefcases too, strange physiology.”

Astrid nodded in concert and the Doctor let her go and spun around, hands in his hair, coat flying around him, “Why those lying, self-serving copy cats... I’m going to...” He dashed towards the police box, stopped and ran back to Walter and then ran towards Rory and Donna.

“Oy, oy,” Donna cried as the Doctor grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the box. He cried, “No time, no time, come along Rory, come along. We have some bowler hats to defrock.”

Rory sighed but got up quickly and said a brief thank you to Astrid, who nodded numbly back at him. Walter was staring at the whirlwind of motion, a sad expression on his face. The Doctor gently shoved Donna into the police box and hurried Rory along, arms and hands flapping like mad. “Quit shoving me, spaceman.”

“Allonys! Rory, Allonys!”

Rory waved at Walter and said, “You normally say, Geronimo.”

The Doctor paused, mid wave and blinked. “I do? Bugger. Let’s go.”

Rory slipped inside the police box and the Doctor paused long enough to give both Astrid and Walter a jaunty wave. “Thanks, thanks.. ah..”

Walter stumbled forward, clutching a small hammer and said loudly, “But, ah, ah... can I?”

The Doctor beamed at Dr Bishop, his expression kind but firm. “Dr Bishop, your sense of adventure and inherent love for exploration and pushing the boundaries of reality is commendable. You are a man after one of my hearts. However, ...”

Rory interjected from inside the box, his face barely visible, “What he means is that your lives are weird enough as it is. You don’t need this brand of insanity too.” He yanked the Doctor into the blue police box with him and said loudly, “No more ‘one time trips’ remember – you promised.”

From the inside the box, which had to be fairly crowded by now with all three of them, Donna’s voice echoed, “What in the hell happened to my McVitties? Shortbread, who likes shortbread?”

Walter was positively vibrating with suppressed excitement, and desperation to see inside the box no doubt, so as the door slammed shut with finality, his face fell. An odd whirring, pumping sound filled the room and the box faded out, in what if Astrid was honest, was a fairly decent special effect.

“I was going to show him my Phish food flavoured fish food flakes,” Walter cried mournfully.

Astrid stood and made her way to a disconsolate Walter. She wrapped an arm around him and said, “At least nothing weirder than a inter-dimensional time machine happened, Walter. It could have been far worse.”

Walter nodded, “Yes, Gene could have liked him more than me.”

By the time Olivia and Lincoln arrived, Walter was happily drawing up blue prints for a time travelling toaster. Astrid waved them over with a smile. She was certain that they would get a kick out of this one.

***fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho*fringe*drwho**

Fin

AN: I wrote this for [](http://claudiapriscus.livejournal.com/profile)[**claudiapriscus**](http://claudiapriscus.livejournal.com/). She didn’t ask for it, and I don’t know why I did, but I did. Our shared loved of the whoverse and Fringe inspired me (and her awesomeness). That and Eleven’s wackiness combined with Walter. I also get to tick off a goal for the year – write in another fandom. So yay.

  
  



End file.
